


Evening Routine

by ladyshadowdrake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, bath time!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little boys never like bath time, but stealing daddy's arm to get out of it is a little extreme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evening Routine

“PETER!” Bucky howled, hastily grabbing a towel and flying out of the bathroom, still soaking wet. “Peter, get back here!”

A childish giggle rang through the halls, followed by the thunder of tiny feet making as much racket as someone five times the weight. Bucky darted around the corner, off balance with his cybernetic arm missing. He made a grab for the three year-old, missed, and pitched forward. He caught himself with his right hand, lost his towel in the process, and continued on, naked. “Peter, get back here!”

Peter shrieked in laughter and pounded into the living room. Bucky tore in after him, leaving puddles of water behind him. Steve glanced up from the couch. His eyes slid back to his book and then did a comic double-take. He twisted on the couch to watch a naked Peter fly around the room, holding Bucky’s cybernetic arm cradled to his chest and exhibiting a remarkable amount of balance. Steve broke into helpless laughter.

“Don’t just sit there, Rogers, catch him!” Bucky snapped, while Steve continued laughing. Bucky chased Peter around the small living room twice more before Steve got himself under control. Bucky herded the little monster around the couch and Steve reached out to snag him. Peter let out a high pitched scream and jumped to avoid Steve’s grab. Steve closed his arms on air and jerked back, shocked to find his grasp empty. Steve and Bucky exchanged baffled looks, Bucky darting around the couch, Steve dropping to his knees to look under the coffee table.

“What on Earth?” Steve asked, spinning a quick circle.

Their apartment was small and not well furnished – a tiny kitchen with a table that folded down from the wall, a living room that barely fit the second hand couch, makeshift coffee table, and television balanced on cinderblocks. There was really nowhere for anyone hide, not even a three year-old.

A tiny giggle called Bucky’s attention upward to see Peter clinging impossibly to the ceiling with one hand and both feet, Bucky’s arm still clutched to his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled onto the coffee table. Steve, following Bucky’s progress, let out an aborted curse and hopped onto the couch. The table shuddered under Bucky’s feet and Steve struggled to find stable footing on the couch while they reached their three hands up to him.

“It’s alright, Peter, you’re fine. We’re going to get you down,” Steve said calmly.

Far from being afraid, Peter grinned, twisting around on the ceiling. Bucky managed catch one of Peter’s legs and Steve got his hands around Peter’s sides. “You have him?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded. “Alright, little man, let go of the… the ceiling.”

Peter twisted his head to look down at Bucky curiously.

“Let go, we’ve got you,” Steve cajoled with a smile. “Should I start tickling you?”

Peter shouted in childish alarm and dropped into their hands. Steve cradled him on the way down and Bucky rescued his arm from Peter’s chest. Giggling, Peter rolled into Steve’s shoulder and buried his face against Steve’s neck. Bucky stepped down off the coffee table and reattached his arm with a practiced twist. As soon as he had both hands back, Bucky reached up to help Steve down from the couch. Going from wild energy to exhaustion like he did so frequently, Peter yawned.

“How-?” Steve started, but Bucky hushed him with a finger and took Peter back.

“Time to finish up your bath, weasel. And I’m not getting in with you this time,” Bucky warned, tapping Peter’s tiny nose.

Peter squirmed and twisted in Bucky’s grasp. “Daddy, no,” he whined, reaching up to grab a damp strand of Bucky’s hair.

“You’re covered in soap. You’ll be sticky and itchy,” Bucky said, holding him tighter and heading back to the small bathroom. Steve followed behind and retrieved Bucky’s abandoned towel from the hallway. Steve wrestled the wriggling toddler back into the tub while Bucky pulled on his sweatpants. Together, they managed to get Peter rinsed off, dried off, and into his fluffy blue pajamas.

“Daddy, story.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, rubbing at his ear in comic exaggeration, “What was that?”

“Story, daddy!”

Bucky repeated the motion, tilting his head. “Sorry, I still didn’t hear you.” He twisted back to look at Steve, filling up the doorway. “Did you hear him?”

“Papa!” Peter tried, hitting his fists on the bedspread. “Story!”

Steve cupped his hand behind his ear. “What was that, Peter?”

Making an annoyed noise, Peter reached out to Bucky. He patted Bucky’s cheek with one chubby little hand. “Story, daddy, please.”

“Well, since you said please so nicely…”

Steve helpfully fetched him a Dr. Suess book and sat next to him on the floor. They read _Green Eggs and Ham_ together, Steve reading Sam-I-Am and Bucky taking the other character in a high-pitched voice that made Peter giggle. Peter curled onto his side and fell asleep before the end of the book, but they finished it quietly anyway, and remained seated on the floor beside him with the book in Bucky’s lap.

“What was that?” Steve asked finally.

Bucky shrugged. “No idea, but I don’t want him to feel like it’s strange or wrong.”

“Wrong, no,” Steve said, “But strange?”

“After everything we’ve seen in this world, clinging to the ceiling doesn’t seem strange,” Bucky argued. He reached out with his flesh hand and curled it gently around Peter’s cheek. “He’s my son,” Bucky whispered, “And I won’t ever have him thinking he’s anything less than that.”

Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Of course not. But we need to know what to expect. Do you think he gets it from you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Ever see _me_ clinging to ceiling?” he asked, but stopped, and frowned. They exchanged glances. “Okay, so that wasn’t a very good question. But you know what I mean.” He flickered a glance back at Steve. “Maybe a mutation?”

Steve shrugged again. “Professor Xavier would know, if you want to take him there.” He leaned forward and set his lips gently to Bucky’s temple, reaching out with one hand to lace their fingers together over Peter’s tiny face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Bucky appreciated that Steve didn’t try to press him, and it made it easier to consider taking Peter anywhere. He leaned into Steve’s body, but didn’t respond. It had taken so long to understand ‘together’ after breaking free of Hydra, after more than a year on the run, after seventy years of being so terribly alone that he forgot there was another state to occupy. If there was anywhere that felt like home, anything that could make him feel warm and whole, it was Steve’s strength and Peter’s tiny heartbeat. He turned and set his lips gently to his best friend’s.

Beneath their hands, Peter shifted and turned over, making soft noises in his sleep. Bucky drew their hands away and rose onto his knees to kiss Peter’s soft cheek. “Only sweet dreams,” he whispered as he stood. Steve leaned over Peter to lay a kiss on his forehead and took Bucky’s metal hand to draw him quietly out of the room to the warmth of their bed, and Bucky didn't think he'd ever been so happy.

 


End file.
